


Bound For Glory

by yumimum



Series: I Take The Words 'Verse [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Het, Light Bondage, Missing Scene, Romance, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumimum/pseuds/yumimum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wise man once said, ‘All of our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.’ But then again, the Doctor realised as his captor secured his leather-bound wrists to the headboard, old Walt hadn’t reckoned on one Rose Marion Tyler, had he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound For Glory

A wise man once said, ‘All of our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.’ But then again, the Doctor realised as his captor secured his leather-bound wrists to the headboard, old Walt hadn’t reckoned on one Rose Marion Tyler, had he?

“Didn't your mother ever tell you it’s rude to tease?”

His companion simply smiled. “She also told me not to play with my food. Lucky for you I didn’t listen, eh?”

“You comparing me to beans on toast, Rose, Tyler?”

“Nah,” she replied as he grudgingly relaxed his arms. “You’re more like a plate of chips.”

“ _Stodgy?_ ”

“Hot,” she said, leaning over to nip at his collar bone. “Mouth-watering,” she murmured, sharp teeth grazing his double-pulse as she scooted further down the bed. Superior physiology or not, the Doctor’s stomach muscles clenched as her agile tongue darted out to skim his naval, and it was all he could do to bite back a whimper as her warm breath ghosted across his erection. “Did I mention good enough to eat?"

“ _Rose…_ ”

“You gonna behave?”

"Where's the fun in that?" he said, watching her trace the simple gold chain that hung around her neck. “Untie me.”

“Ah-ah. My game. My rules.”

“Not how I remember it.”

“Yeah, well… you’re an old man. Memory’s bound to be a tad rusty.”

“Oi!” The Doctor’s eyes slid irrevocably towards the TARDIS key nestled between her breasts. “You won’t catch me lumbering about with a second-rate hippocampus. Honestly! How you lot cope with those funny little brains I’ll never know.”

“You asking for a smack?”

The Doctor smirked. “Apple didn’t fall far from the Tyler tree, did it?”

“I am _nothing_ like my mother.”

“Just as well,” he replied, feigning a shudder. “Can’t picture you in all that pink, me. Bad enough I had to see Jackie in her dressing g— _ow!_ What was that for?”

“Be nice,” Rose warned, dropping a kiss to his now throbbing nipple. “My mum’s not the only one with a solid right hook.”

“Is that s’posed to sound tough?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

The Doctor licked his lips as her fingers drifted ever nearer the source of his discomfort. “I’ve faced worse.”

“Is that s’posed to sound impressive?

“Sort of, yeah.”

Rose laughed, and the Doctor’s hips rocked forward in a wordless plea. “Full of it, you are.”

“Let me loose and you’ll be full of me,” he said as she straddled his lap. “I hear I’ll find my feet at the end of my legs. Fancy a dance, Rose Tyler?”

“We talkin’ a waltz or a two-step here, Doctor?”

“Your wish is my command, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” she said, leaning back on her heals. “But _you_ asked for a solo performance, so I guess you’ll just have to sit this one out.”

Great.

_Fantastic._

She would pick today of all days to start listening to him. Still, no rest for the wicked, and as Rose ground the flat of her palm against her soft curls the Doctor flexed his wrists, testing his own range of motion as his body grew tense with anticipation. The bonds were tight—a multitude of alien prisons had obviously taught her well—yet all thoughts of escape blew straight out the proverbial airlock as Rose quelled his protests with a soft, lingering kiss.

Given time he would have his revenge, but right here, right now, the Time Lord settled for a surprise attack, ravishing his companion’s mouth until their bodies ached with desire and she pulled away with a breathless giggle.

“I see you came first in kissing too.”

“I think you’ll find it’s you that comes first around here,” the Doctor said, noticing the slick evidence of arousal glistening upon her inner thighs. “I see how wet you are. This nose doesn’t lie, Rose Tyler. Neither do the ears. And those sounds you make—those sweet little whimpers… illegal in a thousand galaxies.”

And he should know. They’d already been arrested in two of them.

“Remember Darillium?” he murmured, groaning in relief as his neglected cock brushed against her stomach. “The Singing Towers? The club? That dress—”

“The armed guards?”

“That too. First time I’ve had to hop for my life, I’ll tell you. Should probably go back and find those boots.”

“Never mind my knickers…”

“Nah,” the Doctor said as Rose eased a couple fingers inside her body. “They only get in the way. Now, tell me how it feels.”

“G-good.”

“Narrow it down.”

“Hot,” Rose whispered, stroking her clit as the potent elixir of human pheromones saturated the air around them. “Deep… wet…”

“You’re nearly there, aren’t you?”

“Doctor…”

“Don’t stop,” he said, inhaling sharply as she flinched from the sharp pleasure. “Again, Rose. Do it again.”

“Doctor!”

“Again!” he ordered, and at last she relented, rubbing the complex bundle of nerves in furious circles. She was close—so close he could almost taste it, and reaching out with his mind the Doctor basked in her heightened emotions until she slumped, panting, against his chest.

“Wow.”

“That was—”

“—different.”

The Doctor frowned. “Good different or bad different?”

“Just different,” she replied, flashing him a tongue-touched grin. “You all right, down there?”

“Got no complaints,” the Doctor said, fighting a shiver as his little temptress raked her nails across his shoulder. “You see these eyes, Rose? They’re old eyes. Nine hundred years, and they’ve seen some wondrous sights, but you, Rose Tyler; you just outshone the lot of ‘em.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know?”

“Is that right?”

“Uh huh…” she said, lavishing attention upon his Adams Apple.

“And what do you intend to do about— _Rose!_ ” The Doctor’s question died with an undignified yelp as determined fingers wrapped around his painful erection.

“I have a confession to make.”

“Y-you do?”

“Mmm hmm…” she said, her sticky digits gliding through the pearly-white fluid at his tip. “You’re not the only one with fantasies ‘round here. I used to lie in my bed, just thinking about you—about us… Imagining what it would be like. How you’d feel—”

“Rose…”

“—how you’d taste.” And respiratory bypass be damned, the Doctor struggled not to hyperventilate as she leaned in close, smearing their combined essence across his mouth. “How do _we_ taste, Doctor?”

Like _forever_ if he was being brutally honest. Still, no point dwelling on morbid fancy, or so his mate Charles used to say—and raising his legs the Doctor managed to topple his wayward companion, claiming a nipple for his own as she gasped in surprise.

“Enough games, Rose Tyler. Let me go.”

“Not yet,” she said, her gaze smouldering with devilish intent as she continued working his length. “First, you’ve gotta say the magic word.”

“Rose!”

“Nope. Not that one.” The Doctor’s breath escaped in quick, ragged bursts as one hand slipped lower, gently cupping his balls. “Care to try again?” she asked, two fingers pressed firmly against his arse, teasing, circling—

“ _Rose!_ ”

—entering. Beyond his control, the Doctor arched into her touch, and a string of curses fell from his lips as she angled his erection away from his body, stroking it firmly against her stomach. “Rose,” he whispered, his sight fixed solely on the divine torment before him. “Rose, I want you…”

“You’ve got me,” she said, her grip tightening as she shifted up on her knees, taunting him with a glimpse of where he longed to be. “Close your eyes, Doctor. Is it the same? Does it feel like you’re inside me? With my hands like that?"

“Gods…”

“Is it enough?” she whispered, increasing the pressure yet again as she guided his cock towards her sodden entrance.

He was so close to nirvana—his swollen head brushing through her dark curls, nudging at the molten promise of her core. One hard thrust—that’s all it would take to be sheathed in her heat. One hard thrust and he’d be shouting her name, his hips bucking wildly as he filled her with his seed.

"Say it again,” Rose murmured, and the Doctor gasped as she dragged her tongue along his neck.

“I want you.”

“Say it properly.”

Rassilon, this girl would be the death of him. Whoever said power was an aphrodisiac certainly wasn’t kidding, and the Doctor struggled to hold back a groan of frustration as Rose rubbed her clit with his swollen glans. “Please,” he murmured, straining his arms to press frantic kisses to the side of her face. “Please, Rose… Please, I want—”

Openly begging—and not in the least bit concerned—the Doctor felt a swell of relief wash through him as his companion turned her attention to his belt. “There, now,” she said, flinging the leather strap to the floor. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, grasping Rose by the waist and driving her down onto his engorged shaft. Duel moans of completion tumbled from their throats, and suddenly it was too much—she was too much. Her tight walls surrounding him, the fluid warmth of her arousal bathing his cock, and the Doctor could feel his orgasm cresting as each pleasure-filled whimper spurred him onwards. “Won’t last…”

“Me either,” Rose cried as the creaking of the mattress accompanied the litany of filth he whispered in her ear. “God, Doctor!”

“Yes! Yes, Rose… yes…”

Harder—deeper—the slick sound of their joining filled the bedroom, and with one last surge the Doctor found his release, their hallowed cries soaring like the voices of a choir as he smoothly reversed their positions. How long it took them to recover he wasn’t quite sure, but as they lay sprawled within a tangle of limbs, the Doctor pressed his lips to Rose’s brow, his fingers combing through her tangled hair as they basked in the afterglow of their own personal storm.

“Oh. My. God.”

“You can say that again.”

“Seriously,” she murmured, her soft exhalations tickling his face. “I can’t feel my hands.”

“One of ‘ems groping my arse,” the Doctor said, propping himself up on his elbow. “I feel quite violated.”

“Liar.”

“Yep. Wanna move?”

“Nope.”

“I’m heavy.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Fair enough.” And shifting his weight, the Doctor reached behind him, blindly searching for the hands in question. “Now you’re in trouble,” he said, guiding them gently to rest on the pillow. “Looks like you're stuck, Rose Tyler.”

His companion merely smiled. “Stuck with you?” she said, a delightful blush reddening her cheeks. “That’s not so bad.”

Truer words had never been spoken, and unable to resist, the Doctor leaned in to steal a kiss, only to find himself stunned by the sudden deluge of emotion that flooded his mind.

Shock. Trust. Happiness. Fear. Hope—he’d always liked hope—and above all, love, washed over him in wave after wave of dizzying sensation. Drowning, he was. And as countless synapses sparked into renewed animation, the Time Lord jerked his fingers away from Rose’s temples, his hearts rate soaring at the very idea of something that should’ve been—

“Impossible…” he muttered.

But no, that wasn’t right. Impossible or not it was there. He’d felt it—an unmistakable lure reeling him in, enticing him with the promise of more. His Rose was so full of life—practically brimming with ripe potential. From the moment she’d blundered into that department store basement she’d held not only his hand, but his hearts. He’d never dreamed she’d be capable of holding his soul too.

“You were in my head, weren’t you?”

A shaky nod was the best the Doctor could manage as he carefully rolled them to the side.

“And I was in yours.”

“Yes.”

“Is that bad?”

_Was it?_ Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure. Old fears died hard, and a millennia’s worth of tradition weren’t easily dismissed. If he pursued this there’d be no turning back—no second chances for either of them. It was unorthodox at best— _madness,_ at worst—but was it really too much to ask from a Universe that had taken so much already?

Decision made, the Doctor reached out, ignoring the protests of his beleaguered conscience as he cupped Rose’s face with his palm. “No,” he said, his thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “No, this is good. Fantastic, even.”

“But how—“

“I’m not human, Rose.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he said, an odd vulnerability colouring his voice as he slowly painted a picture of his past. “My people were telepathic,” he began. “We sensed each other’s thoughts… feelings… “

“Like just now?”

“To a degree, yes. But ever since the War…” He trailed off, unsure of how best to proceed. “They’re all gone, Rose. My friends. My family. My connection to the TARDIS helps, but it’s not the same. And this here—with you… It shouldn’t even be possible. You lot aren’t built for it—not to this extent at least.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve heard of a sixth sense, right?”

“Women’s intuition and all that?”

“Sort of, yeah. Like hearing the telephone ring and already knowing who's on the other end. Only the TARDIS is amplifying your abilities—boosting the signal. Maybe she’s trying to show me something.”

“Like what?”

The amber lights of their bedroom dipped in encouragement.

“A better way of living?”

“Then why do you look so upset? If I can help, if I can give you this—”

“Because it wouldn’t be enough,” the Doctor whispered, his hand falling to Rose’s waist as he tugged her closer. “It could never be enough. Relationships like this were rare to my species—practically non-existent in my lifetime. To share one’s mind is the most intimate act imaginable, and if you let me in, the pull would be insurmountable. I’d never want to leave.”

“So?”

_So?_

Rassilon, he wished he had her courage.

“I’d want more,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re in my hearts, Rose Tyler. You’re a part of me. Nothing that happens here tonight—or any other night—is going to change that. But if I forged that type of link between us… if I allowed that connection…” The Doctor shook his head, wondering just how far down the rabbit hole he was willing to fall. “It’s a complete mental joining. You’d be tied to me forev… for the rest of your life.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed as she considered his words. “And what? You think I’m only here for the guided tour? That this is a phase? Something I’ll grow out of? I told you I was signing on. I told you I’d made my choice—”

“Rose—”

“I told you I was never gonna leave you. So really, unless you’re worried about getting stuck with a stupid ape—”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Reaching out, the Doctor clasped his hand around Rose’s arm. “Don’t you ever call yourself that again,” he said, urging her back against the mattress. “ _I_ told _you_ I only take the best, and I meant it. When have I ever given you the impression that this wasn’t enough? That I don’t feel privileged—humbled by everything you’ve chosen to give me?”

“When have I?”

"That's not the point!"

"Then _what_ is?" she demanded, and the Time Lord couldn't help wondering the very same thing.

Was he really that much of a martyr to deny himself the one thing that could make them whole?

"Look," Rose continued, casually draping her arms around his shoulders. "I may be blonde—"

"That's debatable—"

"—but I'm not stupid. I know you're worried, I know that compared to yours, my lifespan is nothing. Just a blink.”

"Rose..."

"I know you'll outlive me, and, yes, I know it's selfish of me to even ask—but please, Doctor, if you want this, if you want this with me, then please, don't let us waste the time we have left."

Her words stopped him in his tracks, and try as he might, the Doctor felt the last of his doubts fading in lieu of her determination. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a crazy woman, Rose Tyler?”

“Once or twice,” she said, as he settled himself comfortably between her thighs. “But how else would I put up with you?”

“Cheeky.”

“You love it.”

He did. He really, really did. And as Rose gifted him with an adorably silly grin, the Doctor couldn’t help thinking that with so many years, and infinite languages at his disposal, this really shouldn’t be so difficult. It wasn’t often he envied his Eighth self—poor bastard that he was—but frock coats and poetry went a long way in the romance department, and this him had campaigned long and hard against the threat of domestics.

Nevertheless, his Rose would be just as happy with a plate of chips as a candlelit dinner on Belannia IV, and even if he’d employed the Bard himself, what more could he say other than he wanted her—needed her— _loved_ her?

Wise man that Elvis Presley.

Time ground to a halt, and valiantly the Doctor held her gaze as he uttered the words that would change their lives forever—however inadequate that forever may be.

“You gonna be this bossy once I put a ring on your finger?”

“You’re the genius. You tell—”

His companion froze, her eyes growing wide in stunned comprehension.

“What?” he said. “Have to do this properly, don’t I? Jackie’ll kill me if I don’t make an honest woman of you.”

“Who’s to say she won’t try an’ kill you either way?”

“Good point. Remind me to skip the Shepherd’s pie.”

“Never mind the pie,” Rose said, her nails grazing the back of his neck. “It’s the cricket bat you’ll need to worry about.”

“You casting aspersions on my ball skills, Rose Tyler?”

“Well,” she replied, deliberately wetting her lips. “I know how much you love a sticky wicket.”

“No denying that,” he murmured into her ear. “I played for a club once. I wasn’t half bad.”

“You think you’re so impressive.”

“I am so impressive. Got the papers to prove it, too.”

“Right...”

The Doctor flashed a brilliant grin. This was it. The point of no return. Rose’s eyes were bright—free from doubt and uncertainty—and the ancient laws of his people fell by the wayside as he gently cupped her jaw, slowly bringing her mouth to his.

“Rose Tyler,” he whispered, one hand weaving through the spun gold of her hair. “Will you do me the honour of accepting me as your bond mate?”

“Mother-in-law and all?”

A rich laugh rumbled from the Time Lord’s throat. "I’ll risk it.”

“And you call me the crazy one,” she said, tugging him down into a tear-filled kiss.

For centuries, his people claimed to be above the primitive emotions of lesser life forms—such base concepts as possession and greed long since loomed out of Gallifreyan society. Still, as their mouths battled for dominance and muffled promises littered the air between them, the Doctor couldn’t help rejoicing in the fact that Rose Tyler was his. Undeniably, irrefutably, his.

It was there in every touch—every heartfelt murmur—the smooth glide of her lips and the tenderness in her eyes. The groan that tore from the Doctor’s throat was damn near animalistic as he reached to position his cock at her entrance, but in the end, the sound of her whispered, “I love you,” proved to be his undoing. The desperation in those three simple words—the urgency—the need for him to believe, pushed him right over the edge, and with one determined thrust the Doctor lunged forward, losing himself in the blessed sanctuary of her body.

“Oh, Rose…”

Her racing heart beat a samba against his chest. “I love you,” she told him, arching back into the pillow. “I love you. I love you, Doctor.”

“Always,” he said, and needing no further encouragement he reached out with his mind, stroking the pristine radiance of her consciousness as he felt the spidery tendrils reach clumsily towards his own. Like gravity, she drew him in, and the Doctor pressed a kiss to his angel’s forehead, revelling in the shades of euphoria that flickered across her face. “Rose,” he whispered, his self-control weakening with each roll of his hips. “Rose, look at me. Keep looking at me. Don’t turn away. ”

“Is that… Oh my God, is that you?”

The Doctor nodded. “How does it feel?”

“Strange,” she said, as he pushed a little further. “Sort of… ticklish.”

“You alright?”

“Y-yeah.”

Work-roughened fingers trailed along her spine, making her shiver as they moved to her waist. “Now, listen. This is important. If it hurts, or if you want me to stop, I need you to promise that you’ll say so immediately.”

“Doctor—”

“Promise me, Rose.”

“I—I promise,” she said as his eager digits moved to her breasts, bringing her nipples to rapt attention. He’d been a fool to try and fight this—the Doctor knew that now—and as nine hundred years of unrestrained curiosity finally got the better of him, the Time Lord couldn’t help but try his luck.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Tell me what you see.”

“I… I don’t…”

“That’s okay,” he said, admiring a rather impressive bruise on her collarbone. “Culture shock—happens to the best of us.”

“Dork.”

“I like to keep my best lines in rotation.”

“So I hear,” Rose said as his thumb settled above her clit.

His gentle caress soon had her trembling, and the Doctor shuddered in return as he projected a serene wave through their fledgling link. “Just relax,” he said, manipulating her sensitive bud in lazy circles. “Don’t try an’ force it.”

“That’s easier said than— _Oh!_ ”

His companion gasped.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as her hands dug into his arse. Her sharp nails broke the skin, and it was all he could do to keep from flipping her over and pounding into her from behind. “Can you see me now?”

“Yes, I… I think so. I mean…. There’s something—right on the edge—colours mostly…”

“Which colours.”

“Red and orange,” she replied as the Doctor urged her legs around his waist. “But it’s all blurry. Like one of those programmes off the telly where they’ve sped everything up.”

The Doctor had never felt prouder. “That’s just your brain trying to adjust. It’ll need a few seconds to connect the dots. Give it time. You’re doing great.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” he said, rocking leisurely within her body. “You’re fantastic, you know that? Absolutely _fantastic!_ And besides, I’ve always wanted to be ginger.” Rose’s laughter sent a jolt straight through him, and the Doctor buried his face in her neck, savouring the floral scent of her shampoo as his tongue snuck out to taste her. “How do you feel?”

“Happy,” she whispered without hesitation. “Safe. Loved. Like I’m—like I’m home.” The Doctor smiled as her eyes flew open in amazement. “That’s you, isn’t it? I’m feeling what you’re feeling?”

“Ten out of ten for observation,” he said as Rose exhaled a shaky breath. Her innocence left him in awe, and as the Time Lord’s lips blazed a fiery trail towards her throat, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Universe really _did_ revolve around her. “Once we finalise the union the impressions will become clearer. We’ll be able to sense each other over a distance. Should make things easier the next time you go wandering off—”

“Oi!” Rose cuffed him playfully about the shoulder. “Wait,” she said, her fingernails raking through his close-cropped hair. “Does that mean you’ll be able to read my thoughts?”

“Only if you direct them at me specifically.”

“Oh...”

“Problem?”

Rose shrugged. “Just curious, is all.”

“And why’s that?” A filthy smirk lit up her face, and the Doctor faltered mid-stroke as his superior biology conspired to work against him. “Rose Tyler!” he panted, clinging desperately to the frayed strands of his self-control. “You can’t… That’s not… is that even _possible_ for a human?”

“Time’ll tell, eh, Doctor? I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face this red.”

“Keep that up and you’ll be seeing it often,” he said, making her cry out with a particularly powerful thrust. “Remind me to have a word with our dear Captain. I think he’s starting to rub off on you.”

His companion snickered. “Not for want of trying.”

“Tell me about it,” the Doctor said, silencing her giggles with a possessive kiss.

Hope really did spring eternal within the ex-Time Agent, but 51st century morals being what they were, the Doctor knew his flirtations were harmless. Jack Harkness was no idiot—despite initial impressions. He’d figured out his first night aboard the TARDIS that the blonde was off limits.  
The array of discarded clothes that greeted him the next morning only confirmed it.

“Will I be able to hear yours?”

Rose’s sweet voice nudged him from his musings.

“My thoughts?”

“Yeah,” she said, blowing a bothersome strand of hair from her face.” Is that… is that all right? Is that possible?”

“It’s possible,” the Doctor whispered, stilling his hips as he smoothed the troublesome lock behind her ear. “The bonding experience is unique to those involved, but no human’s ever done this—not to my knowledge at least—and beyond the ancient texts in the library, I really have no idea what to expect.”

“Sounds like an adventure.”

“And one I thought I’d never have,” the Doctor said as she arched beneath him, encouraging him to move once more. “Are you ready, Rose Tyler?”

“Always,” she replied with a saucy wink.

His magnificent ship sang within in his mind, and the Doctor brushed his lips across Rose’s cheek, his hands moving to bracket her face as he rested his forehead against her own. “Same as before,” he murmured, opening his consciousness a little wider, giving her access to roam. “Close your eyes and concentrate on my presence. The TARDIS is helping you, so focus on the colours. Have they changed?”

“Yeah. They’re brighter. Clearer too.”

“Good. Now does anything stand out? A particular one you’re drawn too.”

“Y-yes…”

“Follow it, Rose. When you’re ready, just imagine yourself floating towards it and—”

—without warning her presence rushed forward, enfolding him in a euphoric embrace. Door after door flew open within the Doctor’s head, and adrift, he could only hold her tighter, liquid fire racing through his veins as their link flared to life—deepening, expanding, dragging them in.

Barriers fell, and images ricocheted between them. They could feel each other vividly, both emotion and sensation. Secrets they’d kept—fears they’d harboured—and starved of contact for so very long, the Doctor threw down his guard, letting her see everything. The things he’d buried. The things he’d denied. Their bodies fused together as piece by piece the severed connections of his psyche merged as one, and as the clouds parted from the fog of his existence, the Doctor blinked back tears as she bathed him in her light.

_Rose…_

_I’m here. I’ve got you…_

And just like that, reality exploded. He closed his eyes and kissed the sun.  
Opened his eyes and found his heaven. Gone were the muted tones of their bedroom—the midnight blue of their sheets replaced by a blanket of red that stretched as far as they both could see. Together, they made love in the shade of the mighty glass citadel, and the Doctor wept openly as he gathered Rose to his chest, rolling them over to marvel at his lost orange sky.

Sharing this—his most precious memory, was more than he’d ever hoped for, and the ancient language of his people spilled unchecked from the Doctor’s lips as the TARDIS translated the long forsaken ceremony, binding her children together with the untold intricacies of the Universe itself.

The Doctor and Rose Tyler.

The Lord of Time and his Golden Goddess.

Just as it should be.

Familiarity returned in stages, but as the snow-capped splendour of his beloved homeland faded once more to a memory, the Doctor settled back into his pillow, his weary senses grateful for the muted _hum_ of his ship. Their bedroom was in near darkness—the TARDIS’ amber lights having dipped to her night cycle, and as the Doctor turned towards the warm body nestled beside him, he knew he’d made the right decision.

He loved her like this. Loved her always of course, but especially like this. With her hair mussed—her features relaxed—her lips swollen as a result of his kisses, and the Doctor smiled fondly as he brushed the blonde locks from Rose’s face, only to receive an incoherent grumble for his efforts.

_Humans!_

Clearly the night’s exertions had taken their toll, and his bond-mate’s exhaustion resonated through their link as the Doctor wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her nearer.

_His bond-mate._

Rassilon, it almost felt like a dream.

So much had changed in the space of a few short hours, yet the Doctor‘s determination to do this properly already had him planning ahead to their next destination. 14th Century Japan to be precise. He’d always wanted to get his Rose into a kimono—slightly more so than his desire to get her out of one—and what better place to do so than the bustling metropolis of Kyoto? The bold spirit of that ancient capital echoed throughout the ages, and with its steeped traditions and unique styles, the city stood as a testament to time itself.

A bit like him, really.

Still, the markets were busy—the craftsmen skilled. He’d promised his companion a ring, and a ring she would get. The Doctor realised their lives would never be simple, and the future was far from guaranteed, but irrespective of the trials that were certain to lie ahead, he knew they’d be able to face them.

Hand in hand.

United.

Together.


End file.
